Prince of Persia  Movie Tags and What Ifs
by Jade-Max
Summary: Movie Tags and What Ifs
1. What If: First Wife

A Prince of Persia fanfic

Disclaimer: The sandbox Belongs to Disney etc, I'm just playing in it and destroying the sandcastles. I'll give the action figures back when I'm done.

Title: First Wife - a What If fic

Author: Jade-Max

Genre: What If

Rating: T

Primary Characters: Prince Dastan / Princess Tamina

Summary: What could have occurred if the cloak Dastan gave his father was _not_ poisoned...

**First Wife - a What If fic**

"Clearly she will make a fine Queen," King Sharaman responded to Princess Tamina's jibe without expression, drawing a laugh from the assembled. He turned to the side, adjusting the Prayer robe about his shoulders, considering the situation.

"But... Tus already has enough wives." Looking at the Princess shrewdly, he acknowledged that his eldest son would likely have his hands full taming this one - if the feat were possible. Tus, much as Sharaman loved his eldest son, didn't have the fire to match this woman, or the time. Turning to his youngest son, Sharaman took a couple of steps to his side as Dastan bent his head to pay heed to his words. Words, Sharaman was sure, he wasn't expecting. "You, Dastan, might take fewer chances if such a jewel waited in your chamber."

Turning away, Sharaman didn't miss Dastan's jaw falling open with disbelief, but that didn't stop him from continuing. Shocking his sons was one of the few pleasures left to him that required little forethought in situations such as these. The King's pronouncement followed close on the heels of Dastan's reaction, daring anyone to refute his logic.

"The Princess of Alamut will be your _first _wife."

There was laughter and applause, the Princess shooting the youngest of the Princes a disdainful look as she took him in from head to toe with one contemptuous sweep of her kohl and gold enhanced eyes. Their gazes locked for a brief second, shock meeting distain. More composed by far than her prospective bridegroom, Tamina returned her gaze to the King.

Sharaman however, had turned back to his son. "What say you, Dastan?"

Blinking, his jaw still open from the shock of the pronouncement, Dastan stared with something akin to incredulity at his father. He couldn't speak, couldn't even _begin_ to form conscious thought. _Marry_?_ Marry Princess Tamina? Was he mad?_ "Uh..."

The King's amusement was palpable as he turned to the gathering. "He plunges into a hundred foes without thought, but before marriage he stands _frozen _with fear, eh?" Laughter at the Prince's expense rippled through the crowd. None save Sharaman noted how Dastan's eyes darted from left to right as if looking for an escape route. "And there are those who say he is not yet wise."

More laughter at Dastan's expense peppered the crowd as Dastan - feeling trapped - leaned down to Bis, sparing the Princess barely a second glance. "I need a drink."

Bis chortled, stopping Dastan before he could run off. "I don't think you can leave without giving an answer." He grinned, signaling that he would do it, before disappearing into the crowd. Deserted by his best friend, and trapped by his unexpected wisdom, Dastan turned back to his father. Overwhelmed by the pronouncement, his eyes shifted back to the woman his father had declared would be his - pending his acceptance.

Sharaman gestured for his youngest to join him and the Princess, and Dastan took the two steps forward required reluctantly. He'd never wanted a wife; his father, however, obviously felt it was time he took one. Looking at Tamina for a long moment, he then turned his gaze to his father. Clearing his throat, he posed his own question. "How many wives must one have to have _enough_ wives, father?"

Laughter, from several men close enough to hear, once again rippled outward.

Amused at his son's obvious dodge, he placed one hand on Dastan's shoulder. "With such raw fire and spirit, one might consider _any _other wives as one wife too many." Which meant Garsiv was out too. "At least until it has been tempered."

Dastan could feel the noose closing about his neck; his father had him neatly trapped and there were few if any ways he could escape this match. Politics had dictated the matches Garsiv and Tus had made before and his brothers had risen to embrace their responsibilities; Dastan had thankfully escaped their fate - until now. Yet, how could he do any less than Tus and Garsiv? Still, it wasn't _he_ who has suggested this fate. "It was Tus who proposed the match; I would not want-"

"Tus will bow to my wishes. Is she not beauteous; do you not want her?"

Trapped, Dastan was damned if he spoke and damned if he didn't. No matter what he said, the Princess would have something to hold over him. Still... "There are things more important than beauty, father."

Garsiv, who'd been silently watching the byplay until now, scoffed. "Pray tell little brother, in all your wisdom, what is more important than beauty?"

Laughter rippled through the assembly once more, and Dastan cast his brother a glare. But it was the Princess Tamina who responded, silencing them all.

"Nothing a Persian barbarian can see."

The King ignored the insult once again, drawing faint laughter back to the room. "Is she not a rare treasure, my son?"

_Treasure_ wasn't the word Dastan would have chosen to describe the viper-tongued Princess. "She is something," he allowed, his words deliberately disdainful to prick her pride. "But beauty fades with time and then what would I be left with?"

Gaffs and ribald comments swirled about the chamber, Garsiv adding his own comments as Bis arrived - belatedly - with a drink for Dastan. A drink he downed in one long swallow before he sent Bis back for more.

"Wisdom, it would seem, has come to you at last, my son. You marriage to the Princess will be the bond that cements the ties between our two nations. Tus has his own kingdom to eventually rule; Alamut will be yours."

One look at the tight look on the Princess' face showed him that was doubtful. A cry for the Lion of Persia to take up the challenge went up about the chamber, and Dastan leaned in close to be heard. He'd made his decision - the only one he could make - and would accept it gracefully. "I think the Princess would disagree with you, father - but I do not. I will handle her."

"Diplomacy has not been your strongest point in the past."

Dastan arched his eyebrows. "I will learn."

King Sharaman's raised hands demanded instant silence, taking a step back from his youngest. "What say you Dastan?"

"You honor me, father."

A cheer went up as Dastan extended his hand to the Princess. She look at him as if he were something she'd scraped off the bottom of her shoe; a look that he'd become accustom to when dealing with foreign dignitaries - and one he refused to let goad him. Trapped, for she had already agreed to a marriage of state, it didn't stop Tamina from deliberately withholding her hand.

"I would have the same promise of you, Prince Dastan, that Prince Tus has given," she told him, her clarion voice cutting easily through the tumult. "The people of Alamut will be treated with mercy."

A murmur of displeasure rippled through the crowd at such a demand, but Princess Tamina held the full weight of her stare upon Dastan, her head high, her shoulders back - every inch the regal monarch of her people. She would not acquiesce without his promise.

"The people of Alamut," Dastan told her with a faint smirk. "Will be treated no differently from any other Persian citizen."

"We are not Persians!"

"Then I will show leniency as you learn."

"Then it would be better that you kill us all now, for we will never learn such barbaric tendencies."

Dastan let his hand drop when his father stepped in.

"We are not without mercy to those who find themselves under our banner, your highness. Mercy you can expect - I would demand no less for my people in your place."

Which was ridiculous to contemplate; Sharaman would never be in her position. No _man _could. Tamina's gaze remained on Dastan. "Your word, Prince."

"On my honor, Princess," he returned, his lips twisting into a mocking smile as her eyes narrowed. She believed him to be without honor - which only went to show how little she knew him - and his promise was more of an insult to her ears. Little did she yet realize that swearing on his honor was not something he did lightly.

The King clasped Dastan on the shoulder once more before turning to move back to the throne at the center of the room, leaving his youngest with his bride-to-be. Looking at her, Dastan did the only thing he could under the circumstances - he extended his hand once more.

Tamina glared at him, but she didn't refuse him this time, placing her fingers within his grasp in the traditional sign of acceptance, and allowed him to draw her forward. Tradition dictated they spend the evening together at the banquet - captured bride or not - and as Dastan drew her close, she pitched her voice low so not to be overheard by others around them.

"You'd best sleep lightly, Persian."

"With you for a wife, it will be a miracle if I sleep at all."

Tamina's gaze dropped to his belt where the Dagger of time stuck out before returning to his. "The miracle, Prince, will be if you survive to see that first sunrise."

"Ah, Princess," his tone held amusement at her jab, bending his head to hers to keep their discussion private. "The miracle will be if you can walk in the morning." She made a sound of outrage, her eyes flashing and he grinned. "Or rather - if you want to."

"You'll die before you touch me, Persian," she hissed, her eyes spitting fire.

"Better men than you have tried to kill me, you highness," his grin turned challenging. "I look forward to watching you try."

_fin_


	2. End Tag: Whims Of Fate

**Disclaimer: The sandbox Belongs to Disney etc, I'm just playing in it and destroying the sandcastles. I'll give the action figures back when I'm done.**

Title: Whims of Fate

Author: Jade-Max

Genre: Romance

Rating: T

Primary Characters: Prince Dastan / Princess Tamina

Author's Notes: So here's my take on how, directly post the movie - and starts just before the end of it as I adore the last throne room sequence with the looks on Dastan's face. Jake did a terrific job for all his lack of dialogue...

* * *

><p><strong>Whims of Fate<strong>

Standing in the Alamutian audience chamber as his brother Tus approached the dais, Dastan's gaze was caught and held by the figure in puritan white who sat upon the circular throne. His brother's approach, the diplomatic humility he portrayed while offering his apology, was only something _he_ could hope to emulate one day, even as Tus' words washed over him without comprehension.

Every fibre of his being was focused on Princess Tamina - and, through it was Tus who spoke - he could hear their last exchange echoing through the halls of a timeline that had been averted.

_"Let me go."_

_"I won't."_

_"Let. Me. Go."_

_"I'm not letting you go!"_

_"I wish we could have been together."_

Of all the deaths he'd been unable to prevent, hers would no doubt haunt him the most. Tightness at the back of his eyes accompanied the jump of his heart as Tamina removed her hood, feeling the punch of her presence like something physical. It stole his breath, halted his ability to think and drew a soft, silent sigh straight from his toes. _She's safe; she's here. _Relief like nothing he'd known before swept through his system.

Tamina didn't notice his regard; she stared straight at Tus, every inch the regal Princess she'd been at the beginning of their never-to-be adventure. She was the same here and now as she'd been when he'd first met her, unaware of what she had come to mean to him - in either timeline.

Drinking in the sight of her, Dastan silently acknowledged the price he hadn't considered when he'd chosen the moment in time at which to return. Tamina, this Tamina, wasn't his; she never _would_ be his. Had his brother not wanted to marry her upon breeching the walls of the city the last time?

Surely that would not change - and Tamina would no doubt accept to ensure the continued safety of her people. Not because Alamut couldn't protect itself within its walls, but _because_ it could protect itself - but nothing else. Alamut hadn't the strength to counter attack, nor the resources to withstand a long seige; allying with Persia would give them a measure of safety their walls could not.

Politics.

Living with the knowledge of Tamina as his brother's wife, however, wasn't something he _could _live with. Swallowing hard, he acknowledged that this wasn't something he'd considered before choosing the time to return to. This might, he realized, be one of the last times he could gaze upon her beauty without fear of repercussion. Tamina's life and the lives of his family in exchange for his traitorous uncle's; it was not such a difficult choice even with this as his silent trial.

Only when Tus finally turned around, did his words penetrate Dastan's reflections. And it was the one word he had no desire to hear his brother speak even as he'd knew it was inevitable.

"Marriage."

_This is it_, he found himself thinking. _The moment to say goodbye once more - and I've no wish to._ Exchanging a look with Garsiv, Dastan silently acknowledged Tus' wisdom even as it meant letting Tamina go. His gaze was drawn back to the regal looking Princess, taking in a long look even as Tus continued his speech. This look, he knew, would have to last him the rest of his life.

"_Your _marriage, to one who is both conqueror and saviour of your city"

Not exactly fond of Tus' description of himself, Dastan chose to ignore his brother's unexpected show ego, hiding his irritation. Even so, despair settled around the edges of his soul for what could not, would not, ever be - and he mourned it.

_Tamina is as lost to me as surely as she was when she slipped through my fingers._

Except Tus was coming his way, embracing him, even as his words failed to register. Dastan looked at his brother in confusion; his gaze shot to Tamina's in shock as his mind caught up to what Tus was saying. He'd never expected that Tus would surrender her to anyone, lest of all him. But Tus, bless him, offered him the one in a million chance he'd believed beyond him. Not quite daring to believe it, to believe he was being offered his heart's fondest wish, he turned his eyes back to Tus... and Tus was smiling.

This time, the words _did_ register.

"-blood or not, he's every bit a son to our father; every bit a brother to Garsiv and me. A _true_ Prince of Persia."

Garsiv squeezed his shoulder in a show of solidarity, in acknowledgement of Tus' public proclamation. A show that, regardless of what had transpired with Nizam, the brothers stood united. A smile, tinged with disbelief crossed Dastan's lips as his brain caught up to what Tus was proposing. A marriage alliance between Persia and Alamut; between Dastan and Tamina - not unlike his father had done upon hearing that Tus wanted to take another wife in the erased timeline. Perhaps... perhaps there _was _such a thing as destiny after all.

Garsiv leaned in. "Get up there before I take your place."

Glancing at Garsiv, Dastan smiled faintly at the empty threat; what man in his right mind _wouldn't_ want what Tus was offering him? Pressing him forward, Tus and Garsiv practically lifted him onto the stairs to face Tamina; and Dastan found himself at a loss for a moment. _This_ Tamina didn't know him - and he wasn't the same man that this Tamina had met the first time around. He found a half-smile and his voice at the same time, knowing with sudden clarity exactly what needed to be done as manners asserted themselves.

He might not have another wife, but he knew every woman deserved a proper proposal.

"Hello Princess," he bowed his head to her, euphoria lending him a lightness of spirit he'd not before experienced - but one that didn't carry over to his nervous and stuttering words. "I," he cleared his throat. "It is... customary to accompany a proposal with a gift, but I was surprised and alas I'm unprepared. I have nothing for you. Save..." reaching for the dagger and pulling it carefully from the back of his belt. His gaze never left hers as his smile stretched, smugness he couldn't hide playing about the edges.

Tamina's dropped momentarily to the dagger before meeting his with wide-eyed hope she couldn't mask for a fraction of a second. That expression was worth it; the dagger, he knew, meant more to her than her own life - the sacred covenant that bound it to her the same one that would bind her to him. She couldn't turn down his proposal without turning down the dagger; something she would never do.

"...that which is already yours."

Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he slowly lowered himself to his knees before her and extended the dagger on his finger tips. Arching his eyebrows, he offered her a challenging look, almost daring her to refuse the gift. Her gaze remained on his for a moment before she reached over to pluck the dagger carefully from his hands. The coolness of her skin didn't brush his, but he felt the _almost_ touch clear through to his toes.

His smugness faded, replaced by a sense of rightness he couldn't name that was unknowingly reflected in his gaze and expression. Staying where he was, he waited for her answer - and was rewarded with a look he recognized well from their journey through the desert. She wanted something from him; an answer of a kind and _would_ have it. She was also, if he wasn't mistaken, fighting back a smile of relief. Their eyes locked, she tilted her head ever so slightly.

"Walk with me - _Prince _Dastan."

There was no mistaking the order or emphasis in that command. Rising to his feet, he followed as she led the way to a nearby garden entrance. Unable to take his eyes off her - Dastan followed; absorbing her presence the way a piece of bread would absorb milk or water. In doing so, he hoped to banish the nightmarish vision of her falling to her death; the _feel_ of her letting herself slip away.

She moved with the same touch of arrogance he remembered, a sleek she-cat in her element, both beautiful and deadly, with velvet-satin paws hiding razor sharp claws. A Princess at home in her skin - but not secure in the knowledge of what she was about to do. Rounding on him, she didn't disappoint. "How can I trust the man who breeched the walls of my city?"

The immediate rush of hurt that followed her question coupled with the knowledge that she didn't trust him was inescapable... _But then, _he reminded himself silently, _she also doesn't know me ... and it's not as if being the key element in her city's fall is going to endear me to her._

Knowing his future happiness with her might very well depend on his answer, Dastan chose his words carefully and offered a faint smile. Yet, even as the words left his lips, he _knew_ she'd never take them at face value - they'd leave her with more questions than answers. "Well I'm starting to think I'm no longer the same man who breeched those walls."

"That's a short time for a man to change so much."

Her skepticism was obvious, the look she pinned him with both guarded and disbelieving. And in that minute he realized something else. For all Tamina knew of the dagger's powers, for all she would be the one person who would believe what he'd been through, he couldn't tell her. Not now, possibly not ever. Confirmed that he knew of the dagger's powers would only make her suspicious of him and his willingness to surrender it to her without qualm.

Few men would; she was simply lucky he was one of them - even if she never learned of that fact.

What she'd one day understand was that, while she was the guardian of the dagger, _he _was _hers_ - and he wasn't about to let her sacrifice herself while he stood between her and danger. She'd never have to pay that ultimate price again - and he'd never have to stand by helpless to save her because of it. Explaining it without giving himself away was going to be murder - so he chose not to. Ambiguity was a convenient shield.

"Perhaps."

She wasn't buying it; he could see it in her eyes as she fixed him with a look before turning to continue her walk - and her probing questions. "It sounds as if you've discovered something here."

"What might that be?"

"A new spiritual awareness."

Their gazes locked, he nodded, understanding exactly where she was going with this; perhaps his Tamina was somewhere within her after all; she simply needed to be set free. "A destiny."

"Yes. Exactly."

Despite her surprise as his astuteness, he turned his gaze forward, his hair shielding his gaze from hers as he voiced the opinion he'd held and only had reinforced since the beginning of this misadventure. If he had a destiny, this woman was it; but his life's course was his own to choose. Otherwise he'd never have been able to stop his uncle, wipe clean that bloody history and set them all on a new path. "I believe we make our own destiny, Princess."

"You have an unfortunate lack of curiosity."

He glanced at her, arching his eyebrows, as a smirk crossed his lips. His tone turned sarcastic, self-depreciating. "No doubt one of my _many _flaws."

"Please don't mock me prince."

Stopping, he realized his mistake immediately. The comment had been a jab at himself, something the Tamina he'd known would have delighted in adding to, but something _this_ Tamina wouldn't; she didn't yet know him well enough to understand. As he considered her comment, closing his eyes, he realized if he was going to say something about the dagger it would be now - and knowing he couldn't. So instead, he did the only thing he could; he pretended.

"I hardly think we know each other well enough for that, Princess." Turning to face her, he couldn't help the way his gaze took in her face as he spoke the words he knew she wouldn't have expected. "But I look _forward_, to the day that we do."

Her eyes widened, her gaze taking him in the way his did her, as if assessing the sincerity of his comment. As if attempting to see what drove him; to see inside his soul. Knowing she'd see what she wished to see, Dastan couldn't help the way his gaze drank her in; she was everything to him and didn't know it yet. Perhaps never would.

Her expression shifted fractionally, her gaze dropping to his lips and the smile that had spread there and he offered her his hand, a chance to accept him formally. It was a gesture that gave her an out, a chance to turn him down, even though she'd already accepted his betrothal gift. A gift she would never return; a gift he'd never have accepted returned.

Distrust and uncertainty was reflected in her gaze, as she searched for some sign that this was some kind of trick; that what she was seeing wasn't him. Perhaps it hadn't been the first time they'd met, but circumstances had changed him and what she saw now was who he'd become. His expression unconsciously softened, urging her to accept that she wasn't seeing things; that what she saw was in fact a man she _could_ trust.

And then her fingers slid hesitantly and slowly into his, a signal of her willingness to go on faith; to believe that he was what he seemed to be. In that moment, everything he'd suffered, everything he'd sacrificed in the destroyed timeline had been worth it.

Keeping her hand in his, he led her around the fountain, enjoying the simple pleasure of her touch - and struggling to banish the feel of it slipping through his as he was powerless to stop it. This time... this time he wouldn't lose her. His thumb brushed across the backs of her fingers in a gentle caress and her fingers stiffened in his grasp, a silent testament to the fact she wasn't used to human touch; that accepting _his_ touch was a trial.

He smiled faintly and let his thumb lie still. There would be enough time for her to become accustom to him in the days that followed.

Silence continued between them as Dastan led her back the way they'd come and into the audience chamber where his brothers, their men and the High Council of Alamut waited. A cheer went up upon their entrance, their joined hands a symbol none would misinterpret, and a hand slapped his shoulder as Bis appeared from the throng.

"We're to have a wedding then?"

Tamina's hand was stiff in his, but Dastan refused to let it go. Escorting the Princess back to her throne, he only willing to relinquish it when he needed to step back, glancing at his brothers as he did before his gaze turned back to Tamina. His grip loosened his fingers on hers and reluctantly let them slide away; a shiver raced down his spine as he fought back the echo of ghostly similarities. Except he _wasn't _losing her this time.

As if on cue, as her fingers slipped from his, the room quieted. Dastan stayed where he was, having dropped to the bottom stair leading to Tamina's throne, as silence descended. Clearing his throat, Dastan did what was expected of him - for once.

"Princess of Alamut," Dastan glanced neither left nor right, keeping his gaze squarely on the woman who was about to agree to become his wife. Merely the formality of her acceptance remained. His hand, which had been dropped back to his side, extended her way in open supplication. "Will you accept my gift to you and join hands with me and Persia?"

Not the most conventional of proposals, perhaps, but one that outlined exactly the nature of the bargain; at least for her.

"I accept your gift, Prince Dastan," she told him regally, her back straight as an arrow and every inch the Royal Princess as she met his gaze. He stepped up but one step as she stood, unexpectedly meeting him half way, a symbolic gesture not lost on his brothers and their audience as she finished her pledge. "And your alliance."

Another cheer went up, this time deafening Dastan as his brothers each clasped him on a shoulder, nearly sending him to his knees before Tamina once more. Dastan placed a kiss on the back of her fingers, doing his best to ignore the ruckus surrounding them, and smiled - just for her.

Below the din, so softly she almost didn't hear him, Dastan made a vow of his own. "You won't regret this, Princess; I promise."

* * *

><p>As per tradition, wedding preparations began immediately, the week leading up to the celebration slowly being ticked off the calendar. Tamina, occupied with ruling her kingdom, was in sequestered meetings with the High Council and Guardians for most of the time and it was several days before Dastan saw her again.<p>

Garsiv and Tus seemed determined to work him to sleep every night, keeping him busy with his own preparations for the upcoming week of festivities that would follow his first marriage. In addition, he often snuck away to run the rooftops of Alamut, as he'd often done to escape the palace in Nasaf with Bis. Here he ran alone at sunset, jumping from roof top to roof top as he sped through various districts.

If anyone saw or recognized him as the Prince who was rumored to wed their Princess, none approached him. Left to his own thoughts, Dastan didn't dare venture far from the palace, the images and lessons of the averted timeline still reverberating within him.

His uncle was dead, at Tus' hand; his father due any day to give his blessing on the union between Dastan and Tamina - or so it was hoped. And Tamina... After their brief turn about the garden, she might as well have been a whisper of air. He hadn't seen her for all he knew she was around.

It stung to realize that she had no desire to seek his company and he had to constantly remind himself he shouldn't expect otherwise. The situation for her was nothing more than good politics.

_This_ Tamina didn't know him, didn't fully trust him for all she'd accepted his proposal - _this_ Tamina hadn't stood by his side through the life and death struggles of saving the world. _This _Tamina only knew what was theoretically possible, not what had come to pass - and been erased.

Finding himself a ledge away from the palace, Dastan settled himself with his back to the wall and stared back at the palace in contemplation. He was tired; more tired than he'd been in a long time. His father would have called it 'soul-weary' and he wouldn't have argued.

The burden of the erased timeline weighed heavily upon him; for all he'd corrected the flow of time's path to avoid having Nizam's scheme do further harm, he could still _see _the lifeless corpses that had been his brothers; _smell _the burning flesh as the poison had eaten his father alive; _hear_ Tamina's cry as she slipped willingly from his grasp.

And he relieved it every night in his dreams; every time he closed his eyes.

It was like living in a world where nothing you knew to be true was - and wasn't. It was strange to wake in the morning and think of what had transpired that day in the other timeline.

Initially it had been waking to find his friend Bis was there to greet and join him on his morning run; that he wasn't camping in the desert with one irate and irritated Princess his only company. That his father's missives came with regularity, indicating he was nearly finished his prayers at the Eastern Palace and would be joining them soon - instead of being fitted for his death mask.

Today, for example, was the day they'd arrived in Avrat for his father's funeral and gone searching for Nizam; the day Dastan had unwittingly given Nizam the key to what he'd been searching for in Alamut. Based on what he'd believed to be true at the time, Dastan couldn't have _not_ told his Uncle about the dagger - and in doing so had unwittingly made Tamina and himself greater targets.

Today was the day he'd been chased across the roofs of Avrat by soldiers who'd once stood shoulder to shoulder with him; the day Garsiv had attempted to kill him. Attempted and failed, with Dastan leaving him incapacitated at the base of a staircase in someone's home.

Reflecting on the incidents, he realized that if Tamina hadn't lifted the dagger from his person, it would have been in Nizam's hands with Dastan none the wiser as to who actually wanted it and for what. He likely never would have noticed his Uncle's burned hands and put two and two together. He would likely have been killed shortly thereafter.

And life wouldn't be now what it was.

Tilting his head back against the wall, the setting sun caressing his face, Dastan stared at the palace that was soon to become his home. For all it glittered, it was a foreboding and bleak place without warmth or love that was so enmeshed in its duty as a guardian it was a wonder anyone had time for anything else - including the wedding of their monarch. A palace where his first wife - likely only wife - sat in council with her most trusted advisors and didn't know if she could trust him.

So, today - in another life - he'd discovered he'd falsely believed his brother capable of regicide and learned the horrible truth; that ambition and bitterness overshadowed Nizam's love for Sharaman.

Tomorrow... well, tomorrow was a day he could have gladly re-lived.

Tomorrow he'd spent long hours in a small tent with Tamina during a sand storm being told of the dagger; of being taken into her confidence no matter how she'd had to be coerced into telling him. Tomorrow was the day she'd first reached out to him, accepted his help; tomorrow was the day she'd first accepted his touch willingly.

And tomorrow - in this timeline - was the first day of a week long celebration that would announce to the world that Tamina belonged to him. Or rather, he suspected that _he_ belonged to _her_.

The ache in his chest just thinking about her made his hand clench, the image, the _feel_ of her slipping through his fingers a ghostly brand he didn't know if he'd ever shake. No matter how often he held her hand, he suspected the act of letting her go would always be overshadowed by that memory.

His father's death would have been crippling if he'd had time to consider it fully, especially with Bis' death so close on its heels. Garsiv's death at the hands of the Hassansins had wounded him as deeply as Tus' death at Nizam's hand but Tamina's... after all they'd been through, Tamina's had nearly killed him.

He'd only found the strength to go forward because it had been her final command; her final wish.

Unlike his father and brothers who'd been murdered, she'd sacrificed herself to keep the dagger and the world safe. How could he have dishonored that sacrifice by not fighting the way she asked?

And it had worked - except she remembered nothing of what they'd been through this past week - in another lifetime - and she was making no effort to know him the way he'd hoped she would while he gave her space. Space, perhaps, that was ill-advised at this juncture. His gaze on the palace, Dastan pushed to his feet and considered the layout.

Based on what he knew and where he'd been, he could find Tamina's quarters - but would she see him or would her attendants turn him away? Indecision held him for barely a moment before he was off and running across the rooftops towards the palace.

An impish Tus had once mentioned a tactic of handling his wives, something Dastan had paid little heed to at the time - but something he was willing to bet his brother still practiced to this day. Tus' long ago comment echoed in Dastan's head as he made a determined line for the Palace and its Princess.

_After all my brothers - is it not better to ask for forgiveness than permission?_

* * *

><p>"Leave me."<p>

The handmaidens that had helped her undress departed, leaving the Princess to her own devices in her dressing gown - and Tamina quickly rolled her head around her shoulders to ease the tension. The past few days had been long and grueling, the high council spending a great deal of time questioning her wisdom of allowing this match. A match they deemed unsuitable, despite the groom being a Prince.

Prince Dastan. A man who regarded her as if she were a mirage ready to slip away the moment he closed his eyes. It made her uncomfortable - and she'd never like that feeling.

It didn't help her thought process that much of the council session questioned his abilities as a ruler - but never as a warrior. As the man who'd breeched Alamut's walls, they had nothing but grudging respect for him; Dastan had almost singlehandedly handed the city to his brother by opening the Eastern gate. To this measure her commanders couldn't wait to get their hands on his experience and-

"It's liable to fall off if you keep rolling it about like that."

She whipped around in surprise to find Dastan lounging in the window, one leg dropped carelessly down into her room, the other propping one arm as it lay bent on the sill. His pants were leather of good quality but worn and well used. His boots showing in the same wear. The white shirt under his vest had also seen better days, washed until it was almost translucent. For all the fine quality of his clothing and the manner in which it was obviously cared for, he looked nothing like the Prince she'd seen in her audience chamber. Yet, he still looked completely at ease there on her window sill as he had in her audience hall - though how he'd gotten _here _remained a mystery.

"And you're liable to fall _out _if you keep sitting there - how'd you get in here?"

Dastan's gaze never left hers, his expression - the one that made her feel like a mirage - badly concealed in his eyes. He dodged her question, not leaving his comfortable pose. "We're to be officially betrothed tomorrow, pending the approval of my father; I thought you might wish to get to know me better."

"And if your father disproves?"

"He won't," Dastan assured her. "This is a match he can see the wisdom of. I suspect he's on his way simply to be here for our wedding. Once he sees you, there will be no question as to my suitability as your husband."

"Is it not my suitability as your wife?"

"No," The expression vanished and he smiled faintly - but the smile carried straight through to his eyes. "It's certainly mine to you."

"Are you mocking me again, Prince?"

"Did I not already say we don't know each other well enough for that, Princess? I promise not to mock until I've spent at least a day in your company."

"Cumulative, of course?"

"Of course. If I were to wait to have you to myself for a full day, I might not be able to mock myself until I can no longer hold a sword."

"Mock yourself?" This was the strangest conversation she'd ever had; he'd put her off balance with his sudden and unconventional appearance. "I believed you to be mocking me."

"Never." He grinned boyishly. "Not until _you _know _me_ better. May I come in?"

Tamina arched her eyebrows. "If you do not, where will you go? Out the window?"

"I would never enter uninvited into a lady's chamber."

"And yet you have, for I certainly didn't give you leave to enter and perch on that sill."

Dastan arched his eyebrows right back at her. "And I certainly won't enter without it. If you prefer I go-" he turned, dropping the indolent pose and his bent leg to the outside of the windowsill.

"What do you think you are doing?"

Dastan judged the distance to the posts he'd used to scale the wall, knowing he'd have to angle himself carefully to avoid injury on the way down. "Going back the way I came."

"The way you came? Are you telling me you scaled the tower to see the Princess, Prince? That is the stuff of fairytales and legends."

"I had no wish to be turned away at your door, Princess," he threw back over his shoulder. "But if you don't believe me..."

He dropped out of sight before she could so much as utter his name, a strangled gasp the only sound to escape her as she raced for the window. Looking down she could see Dastan hanging from one of the cracks in the tower by his finger tips, his feet firmly planted on a wooden stake below.

Impressed despite herself, she hid it behind a mask of irritation. "Stop that! I've no wish to go to war over your broken neck!"

"Such concern, Princess."

"Caution, Prince."

The _look_ he sent her way was unreadable. "I think I'll take my chances with the wall."

Glancing about, Tamina's gaze swiftly returned to his as he let go of the crack to nimbly grasp the rail between his feet and begin to swing downwards. The thought of a single slip from that height made her speak; she didn't like the idea of his broken body littering her courtyard. "That's it then? You've come to talk and upon your first rebuttal you flee? It's a wonder you were able to take Alamut at all!"

Dastan, who'd been ready to flip down to the next level, changed his motion and instead went sideways, grasping another spire before using the momentum to propel himself back into his previous position below her. "Even if Alamution soldiers had been watching that wall, I'd have opened those gates, Princess; but this is not combat between us."

"Is it not?"

"It shouldn't be." His sudden grin caught her off guard. "But it will be. Heated and without mercy or quarter. One thing I've learned, Princess, is that you never fight a battle you can't win unless it's worth dying for."

Taking in his stance, she crossed her arms over the sill and looked down at him, nodding to his precarious perch. "And _this_ is worth dying for?"

A laugh was her answer. "I'm perfectly safe where I am - I've been doing this since I was a boy."

"Doing what - irritating people?"

"Only because it's so much fun; isn't it?"

Their banter was a stimulating as it was entertaining - but it wasn't something she was going to admit to him. "Come inside, Prince Dastan." She ordered imperiously.

"Are you enjoying ordering me around?"

"Is it making a difference? You're not very good at following orders."

He made a sound that was suspiciously like a strangled laugh. "Good of you to notice."

"Your position is hardly dignified, Prince."

Without a word, simply a nod of concession, Dastan proceeded to vault back to her window. Using the smallest cracks and footholds imaginable, he easily pulled himself back onto the windowsill. "Is this better?"

Backing away, she couldn't help but admire the athleticism of his movements - and understanding for just how he'd managed to breech her city exploded within her with certainty. This man, this... _acrobat_ had scaled her walls using little beyond a precise skill set few possessed. The sudden urge to see him fight was almost overwhelming; without a doubt it would be like nothing she'd ever seen before. Shaking away the thoughts, she pinned him with a look. "_You _are crazy."

"So I've been told." He settled back to the windowsill. "But, as you said - it's hard to look dignified when you're hanging by your fingertips."

"A concession? Do you expect something in return?"

"Nothing but a few moments of your time; surely that's not too much to ask from my future wife."

"In her chambers after dark?" Tamina arched her eyebrows. "You've a lack of timing coupled to your lack of curiosity."

"No doubt another of those many flaws I mentioned," his lips quirked. "May I come in, Princess?"

Turning away, Tamina gestured him forward. "You have your audience, Prince; of what did you wish to speak?"

Dastan slid off the windowsill into her chambers, taking in the artistic and opulent surroundings with barely a glance. Used to finery, he preferred something less... ostentatious. The fragrant aromas of honeysuckle and various other flowers that characterized Tamina's unique presence engulfed him in their subtlety. Incense burned in various holders around the room as Tamina settled onto a series of plush pillows near the fire. Despite the fact she was wearing little more than a robe, her regal bearing didn't give him the impression she was uncomfortable about that fact.

Yet, even with her masks so intact, Dastan hadn't spent the last weeks learning to read her for nothing; Tamina didn't know what to make of his presence and she was distinctly uncomfortable about her state of undress. It wasn't anything spectacular that gave her away, just the tension in her fingers as she stretched one arm out gracefully along one of the cushions as the other held the neck of her robe together - and the way she couldn't _quite_ meet his eyes.

"Nothing so formal as an audience, Princess," he corrected mildly, lifting his gaze from her to take in her chambers once more. Anything, he found, to keep her from being uncomfortable with him. "But I suspect, with my father's forthcoming arrival and our wedding so close, you've questions and concerns no one but I may address."

She looked up at him in mild surprise. "Contrary to your belief, Prince Dastan, I have not spent this past week fretting over the man I am going to marry. My people needed to be cared for in the aftermath of your attack, your tactics analyzed and dissected to prevent the city from ever being taken in that manner again."

"The defenses of Alamut are sound for resisting a head-on siege and, with all due respect to my countrymen, Princess, they'd have lasted long enough for Tus to discover the truth of the attack. In all honesty, Tus had ordered me to allow Garsiv the right of first assault - I disobeyed him and in doing so, handed him the city."

"Such modesty."

Dastan laughed shortly. "Modesty has no place in fact; it was only right I correct that wrong and give you back your city."

Silently assessing him, Tamina tilted her head slightly. "You've still given me no reason to trust you."

"I've also given you no reason not to." Striding to the hearth, Dastan gave her his back to make this easier on her - and himself. "Time will give you chance enough to judge me and my actions."

The words fell into the heavy silence, and Dastan silently wished he'd chosen his words more carefully. With her sitting so calmly, waiting for his questions, he had the uncanny sense that she was judging him - and found him wanting.

"Spoken like someone who knows."

It was the closest she'd come to outright accusing him of using the Dagger - but Dastan also knew the sands lay in the handle undisturbed; she had no proof, only suspicion, and he wasn't about to enlighten her.

Keeping his gaze on fire, he answered her carefully, dredging up memories from the past. "My actions are all I have to give, Princess. They are what brought me to the attention of the King and gave me a family; they are what my men see and hope to emulate."

"And attacking my city is something your men hope to emulate?"

Shaking his head, Dastan didn't lift his gaze from the dancing flames. "They seek to emulate the _why_, not the how. I had hoped my actions would minimize the losses a prolonged siege would bring; to spare mothers the necessity of burying husbands and sons - to spare children the loss of their parents."

"And what would you know of such things, _Prince _Dastan?"

"More than I care to admit."

"Has this to do with what your brother meant when he said you've no royal blood?"

He turned to look at her, his gaze unerringly finding hers - he'd felt it on him and had no need to go looking for those piercing pupils. "You've a right to know you're marriage to the Persian court is not by blood, Princess, but by mutual affection and respect. The King adopted me when I was a boy."

"Adopted," she looked confused - almost as confused as the last time she'd asked and her disbelieving question from that timeline echoed in his head. _Then how did you become a Prince?_ Before she could voice that question - or any other, Dastan answered it for her.

"I grew up in the slums of Nasaf; an orphan who doesn't remember his parents. But the King... my _father_ found me one day in the market... he took me in; gave me a home, a family. My brothers and I may not share the same blood, but we are brothers where it matters most."

"It is not difficult to see why your brothers respect you, Prince Dastan-"

"Dastan," he broke in with a faint smile. "I've never been one to stand on ceremony and the title's a mouthful."

"I suppose," the cheeky come back was a veiled jab when she didn't offer him the same courtesy. "Do you take anything seriously?"

"Rarely," he flashed a smile that was quickly gone. "The hour grows late; I should let you rest."

"This is why you scaled my wall - idle chit-chat?"

"I'd hoped for a fight," with an almost playful smile on his lips, Dastan turned and headed for the window. "But you seem less than obliging."

"Perhaps it would be safer if you used the door?"

"Safer, but not wiser," Dastan glanced up from where he'd been about to pull himself onto the ledge. "I doubt your guards would appreciate my departure when they did not give me leave to enter. Until tomorrow, Princess."

He disappeared out the window. Tamina was on her feet and at the sill in moments, looking down - grudging respect for his feats of acrobatics and balance replaced the irritation of his cheek. Considering what he'd said, she moved away from the window once he was lost in the darkness, returning to her pillows by the fire. Prince Dastan was not what she expected - and more than she'd hoped in a would-be-husband.

Perhaps... perhaps this match was not so ill advised after all and fate had smiled upon her at last. _Only time_, she thought ruefully, _will tell._

_fin_


	3. What If: Wait!

**Disclaimer:** The sandbox Belongs to Disney etc, I'm just playing in it and destroying the sandcastles. I'll give the action figures back when I'm done.

**Title:** Wait!

**Author:** Jade-Max

**Genre:** Romance / Adventure

**Rating:** T for 'violence'

**Primary Characters:** Prince Dastan / Princess Tamina

**Summary:** When he returns to the past, Dastan doesn't make it to his brothers on the steps to denounce Nizam and instead reached the high temple as Tamina is declaring the innocence of her city...

**Note:** There are quite a few lines from the movie since the confrontation at the end with Nizam and Dastan is just about my favorite part of the movie. Yet, I still asked myself, what if...

**Wait!**

Dastan's feet flew over the cobblestone, the dagger of time tucked safely in the back of his belt, his swords in hand as he took the steps to the Alamutian Palace two at a time, the replay of the previous timeline's events swirling over and over in his mind.

He'd arrived late to find Tus in discussion with the Princess about a union; and Tamina willing to die before submitting. Until she'd seen him; or more accurately, the dagger he'd unknowingly placed into her line of vision on his belt.

His brothers and Uncle were nowhere to be seen on the Palace steps, indicating they were likely somewhere above, heading for the temple.

_"Tus! Garsiv!"_

Calling for his brothers, Dastan flew on fleet feet into the palace, the soldiers opening their ranks to let him pass even as their mass swallowed up his call. Too late; he was too late here - would he be too late this time to save Tamina?

Looking around, he gauged his surroundings - and sprinted for the steps. Landing lightly on the first one, he used it as a spring board to the banister and then up. Like an acrobat, he sprang from level to level, all the while praying for time; his brothers needed to know they'd been deceived. They needed to know that _this_ was wrong.

Landing on one of the upper landings, Dastan took the steps two at a time, listening for the signs of confrontation above. The clang of a container as it hit the ground, followed by Garsiv's harsh words - whatever they were - spurred him upwards.

Dastan slid to a stop inside the door to the main temple as Tamina was proclaiming the innocence of her people. The near physical impact of seeing her pressed the breath from his lungs and made his head swim. _Alive_, his heart chanted. _She's alive; they're all alive!_

For a long moment, as he stared at the proud tilt of her chin, he forgot exactly why he was there and simply drank in her presence; until her refusal of Tus' proposal and his brother's response penetrated the fog.

"I'll die first."

"That can be arranged."

The sight of the sword being leveled at Tamina's golden throat spurred him into action; and this time, it wasn't her voice that called for a cessation, but his own, even as he sprang into action.

_"Tamina!"_

Dastan's call reverberated through the level as he vaulted forward, spinning and sliding as his swords snapped from their scabbards and upwards. Planting himself before the Princess, he deflected the attack from his knees and sent the other man sprawling in surprise.

Tamina fell back as Dastan slid in, retreating to the protected tabernacle on the dais. Another blade angled in from the side - a soldier who thought to do Tus' bidding, and Dastan was on his feet in a flash, using strength instead of finesse to get the man to drop his sword. As the weapon hit the stones, Dastan's gaze darted left and right, looking for more adversaries.

"Dastan!" Tus' exclamation was angry. "What is the meaning of this?"

"We have been deceived, brother." Stepping back, Dastan took up a defensive stance in front of the tabernacle where the dagger had once been held, acutely aware that a wrong shift of his stance would reveal that very same dagger to the princess behind him - and he couldn't predict her actions. For all he knew she would snatch it away immediately and plunge it into his back. "We should never have attacked this holy city!"

"Have you gone mad?"

"I cannot stand silent in the face of treachery. This war was set up by one trusted above all else - our Uncle Nizam."

"Dastan," his Uncle's tone was patronizing above the murmurs radiated through the room, completely playing the part of concerned family member. A part he'd perfected but Dastan knew now to be a ploy. "You've fought hard today; too hard perhaps? You're confused; best you go rest to gather your wits."

"The weapons we found are forgeries!" Dastan's voice rang clearly, angrily, above the ripple of laughter. "There are no weapon forges here, Uncle and you know it. And the spy who supposedly intercepted them was hired by _you_ to convince all of _us _to attack Alamut!"

"What is this Dastan, victor's remorse? You yourself led the attack, brought us this great triumph!"

Casting his Uncle a decidedly dirty look, he kept one eye on his brothers. "Yes I did - and I should never have let the attack happen," fixing Tus with a long look, he finished with deliberate inflection. "I knew in my heart it was wrong."

Tus' eyes widened at his statement, sharing a look with Garsiv as Dastan turned to look at Nizam even when his uncle wouldn't look at him. Pitching his voice low, he spoke directly to his father's traitorous brother. "It will never be you; you will never be king. You don't have the heart." As if surprised by the words, Nizam looked him in the face and Dastan smiled faintly. "You will _die_ in the shadow of a great man."

Nizam went for a sword, and Dastan's gaze dropped to where the hand rested on the hilt, his smile challenging, daring his uncle to reach for it. To confirm Dastan's accusations. To show his concern for his family for the lie it was.

A rustle behind him reminded him of Tamina's proximity and while he hadn't heard her gasp, he debated reaching for the dagger to turn back time - to erase what was tantamount to a confession from her memory. Of course, there was no way of knowing if she knew he was capable of other means of discovery - and she didn't yet know he had the dagger. Only the knowledge that she _didn't _know stopped him from reaching for it in the end.

Garsiv stepped close, placing a hand on Dastan's upper arm. "You're making a fool of yourself brother; cease and desist before you make an even bigger scene."

Shrugging the hold away, Dastan turned back to Tus - and sealed his fate with the Princess. "Tus; before you left Nasaf, father told you this. That a true king considers to the advice of counsel, but he _always_ listens to his own heart."

Shocked, Tus glanced from Dastan to his Uncle and back. "Father and I were alone; how could you know that?"

"He's right;" urging his brother to believe him, to reach the realization he needed to make. "He knows us, he knows what we're capable of. Just listen to your heart."

Nizam closed in, on Dastan's side. "He defies your order and the attacker now wants to turn back. Tus - take measure here."

Looking from brother to Uncle and back, Tus seemed torn between which of them to believe. Family was important to him; to all of them and Dastan knew his brother didn't want to consider their Uncle a traitor - but the dilemma he faced was not one Dastan envied. Either he branded his Uncle a traitor or his brother a liar; neither a good course of action.

Obviously struggling, Tus finally reached the only conclusion that would be fair to each of them - one Dastan knew would seal his Uncle's fate. "The spy knows the truth; find the spy! Bring him to me," turning, he headed for the main doors of the temple, retreating until he could either return as conqueror - or a man owing a beautiful woman and ruler in her own right the humblest of apologies. "We'll wring it from him."

Nizam fell back a step to the side of the stairs as Garsiv went with Tus, the rest of the invaders filing out with him as the cry for the spy went out. Dastan kept his gaze on his Uncle for a long moment, watching at how the older man seemed to be searching for a way to avoid the fate he was now bound to - for Tus would discover that things were as Dastan said.

Turning away, Dastan took one step upwards towards the tabernacle - and hit the deck as the sound of metal leaving its scabbard reached his ears at the same time the Princess Tamina's cry of "Watch out!" did. His blades appeared in hand as one of his uncle's nearby guards lunged in with a spear, and regained his feet swinging.

Defending himself from two sides at once, Dastan dispatched the first guard, and then the second before being forced to jump up and over the deadly swing of Nizam's. A burning trail upon the back of his right shoulders showed he'd not escaped unscathed. Landing on the balls of his feet, Dastan immediately turned, using the side of the tabernacle to propel himself up and over, twisting and spinning as he came down on even ground with Nizam.

The ring of metal on metal was loud in the enclosed room, an almost continual shriek of metal on metal as Dastan defended himself from Nizam's brutal assault. Ducking, dodging and weaving under his uncle's single blade, he counter attacked only when moments presented themselves. Quick footwork kept him ahead of his Uncle, leading them back up and onto the dais where the Princess still hid within the tabernacle.

Upon reaching the top, Nizam knocked one of Dastan's scimitars away, and Dastan used the momentum from the manoeuvre to fall, taking his Uncle with him, to neatly flip him over the stairs on the far side of the dais. Nizam hit with a bone jarring crash as Dastan nimbly rolled to his feet. Jumping down, he placed one hand on the center of his Uncle's chest, aware that - somewhere behind him - his brother's were hanging on his every word.

"You had what every man could ever dream of. Love. Respect. And Family." Shaking his head, disgust entered Dastan's tone. "But that wasn't enough for you was it?" The urge to spit was strong, but a glimpse of Tamina - still within the Tabernacle - from the corner of his eye was enough to convince him not to. Not in this sacred place. Pressing down, he pushed off his Uncle's chest, his gaze on the tabernacle as he vaulted the steps two at a time.

"Behind you!"

The sound of metal leaving its scabbard spun him around at the same time the cry sounded, the sound of a blade piercing flesh - and a death gasp mingling together. Tus stood behind their murderous Uncle, his sword in the older man's back, a knife in Nizam's poised to enter Dastan's. Nizam's body fell away, dead before he hit the ground, and Dastan looked up to his brother in silent thanks. Two steps brought Tus to his side, his hand clutching Dastan's shoulder, Garsiv kneeling to ensure Nizam was dead.

A sound behind them brought Dastan around to see Princess Tamina standing framed within the doorway of the tabernacle, her gaze focused on him.

For the first time since he'd made the conscious decision to try and out Nizam before anything more could happen, fear invaded his limbs. If she knew about the dagger being in his possession, she'd likely try to kill him before he had the chance to explain. It was Tus who finally spoke.

"My Uncle's treachery misled me into attacking your city, your highness. I owe you an apology and reparations. I beg of you to allow me to try and make amends."

Tamina's regal gaze shifted to Tus, ice all but dripping from her lips. "Pretty words for a murdering barbarian; perhaps if you had more brains than brawn you'd have verified your information before attacking my city."

"An unforgiveable and unfortunate mistake, Princess; it was inconceivable at the time the attack was planned to think my Uncle would lie so convincingly to achieve his goals." Tus winced, a visible sign of weakness - far more than he owed her and at the same time, far less. "Or abuse the trust we placed in him."

Tamina strode forward and Tus gave ground - but it wasn't his way she came. Instead she turned to look at Dastan, her gaze assessing and condemning. "Dastan, was it?"

Inwardly he winced. "Yes, Princess."

"Out brother, _Prince_ Dastan," Garsiv corrected hotly. "You've a sorry welcome for the man who just saved your life!"

"Peace, brother," Dastan interjected, raising one hand to stall Garsiv before Tus or Tamina could say anything. "It's the welcome I deserve."

n"She should show some respect," was Garsiv's hot reply. "She'd be dead without you."

"We'd never have entered Alamut if I hadn't disobeyed orders and opened the Eastern gate." He turned to look at her then. "This should never have happened."

"How is it, _Prince_ Dastan, that the man who breeched the walls of my city so suddenly believes in its innocence?"

"Any venture embarked upon by faulty intelligence should not be paid by innocent blood, Princess." His lips twisted. "My brother is right; reparations will need to be made."

Her eyes widened fractionally and Dastan was acutely aware that no one else in the room - however focused they'd be on her - would have noticed. It was so subtle a movement, it was one he'd only just come to see in the minutes before Tamina had died. Except she hadn't yet - and she wouldn't if he had anything to say about it.

"If those reparations involve my betrothal to Prince Tus, than you can take whatever sympathy you have for us and leave."

"Not to him," Dastan cast an apologetic look at his brother, knowing she'd never accept Tus - or Garsiv - after the way they'd treated her; but there _was_ an outside chance she'd accept him. "To me."

"Dastan!"

"Little brother!"

Tus and Garsiv spoke at the same time, tones of incredulity mixing together as Tamina reacted to his proposal not at all beyond a calm regard."To you - the man who was instrumental to the invasion of my city?"

"And in _saving_ your life and your city." Dastan shrugged, words failing him suddenly. "I... uh - I..."

Tus spoke up, his tone respectful. "A union between our nations would be mutually beneficial, Princess. Dastan is correct, for all he's stumbling over the words. A bond through marriage to Persia's royal house will safeguard your city in many ways, not just allying you to our army. It will make us accountable for our actions and the people of your city will be well taken care of."

"My people will be well taken care of regardless of Persian support."

"Respectfully Princess, your people would suffer without it; they are ill equipped to deal with the aftermath of a siege or war."

Tamina looked less than impressed by Tus' argument and Dastan took the opportunity to kneel and collect one of his blades; the other lay near Nizam's corpse at the foot of the stairs. Staying where he was, he loosely gripped the blade's center, keeping the hilt Tamina's way as he rose back to his feet.

"An alliance with our would-be invaders, Prince Tus, is distasteful."

"And your saviors?"

Tamina turned Dastan's way, the words having slipped out before he could stop them. "Your actions here do not cancel out your crimes, no matter how you wish to justify them, Prince Dastan."

Staring at her, Dastan took her in for a long moment - the prideful tilt of her chin, the flash of her eyes and regal stance - and couldn't help compare her to the Tamina in his memory. The one smeared with sand, dirt and blood, her clothing torn and dishevelled, her hair in a simply plait down her back - and the tears in her eyes as she'd voiced her last wish before willingly allowing herself to slip through his grasp.

The _look_ she'd given him then was miles from the one that speared him now, bringing home just how much their relationship had evolved in a time that would never be.

"You do what is best for your people, Princess," his reply was quiet, soft even, holding nothing more than quiet conviction. "I did what I felt was best for my men at the time. I cannot change what has been done-" if only she knew! "- but, with your help, I can minimize the lasting impact of my actions."

"I will... _consider_ your proposal, Prince Dastan." Surprise flickered through her gaze, something Dastan was certain no one else would see - and something he only saw because of the time he'd spent in her company - regardless of the existing timeline. "But this is not the place for this discussion. Leave - all of you. I will consider what further concessions Persia must offer before we reconvene in my audience chamber at high sun."

The brothers inclined their heads, dismissing their troops from the holy sanctuary. Several of the men stopped to collect the corpses as they filed out, leaving the Princess behind. Dastan detoured to collect his other sword, sheathing them with a fluid move - and feeling the way the blades crossed at the base of his back, pressing the dagger into his spine.

Pausing in the doorway to the temple, Dastan looked back over his shoulder to see she was watching him, her expression blank. He smiled faintly, inclined his head, and turned to go, not taking his gaze off hers until necessary.

Descending towards the ground, the soldiers queued out in an orderly fashion with the Princes at the back, Dastan trailing behind his brothers as if still protecting the Princess. He wouldn't allow anyone to go back if they had a mind to; Tamina, he knew, needed some time to organize her thoughts. Not that she was slow witted, but the more space she had, the less likely she was - he hoped - to dismiss him out of hand. Cornering her into marriage wasn't the solution to this mess.

"First Uncle Nizam's treachery and now a proposal to a Princess?" Tus inquired with a shake of his head, glancing back at Dastan. "You really are mad little brother."

"You proposed first." Dastan looked down the stairs to where his Uncle's corpse was being carried. It would be laid out with the rest of the dead to await their father's decision on what to do with it - a dispatch Tus was no doubt already attempting to form in his mind. "I meant what I said, Tus; I never should have allowed this attack to go forward; it didn't feel right."

"What didn't feel right was the way our Uncle kept applying the pressures in favour of attack," Tus corrected, his bewilderment at Dastan's actions buried beneath the weight of Nizam's treachery. "I should have seen something was amiss."

"What I don't understand," Garsiv interjected, "was why attack Alamut if there are no weapons? What did he hope to gain?"

"Any ideas, Dastan?"

Dastan looked away as his brothers turned the question his way, unable to look either of them in the eye; how did one explain knowledge gained in an unconventional manner without giving away the secret? His silence, unfortunately damned him as much as any vague explanation he could have given. The downside to a family like his was that his brothers knew him a little _too_ well.

"Dastan - what do you know?"

"Nothing."

"Dastan." Stopping on one of the landings leading out of the tower, Tus blocked the stairway and turned to pin the youngest with a look. "You know things you shouldn't little brother; things about me, things about our Uncle. How did you know the attack was a lie?"

"The clues were all there, Tus; we simply didn't see them at the time."

"You'll never be a politician, Dastan." Garsiv snorted. "If you'd had proof, you'd have said something when Uncle Nizam presented the forgeries."

"Exactly," Tus concurred. "So what changed between the war council and the end of the battle?"

Looking from one brother to the other, Dastan clearly remembered seeing them covered in blood, their eyes lifeless - and, instead of answering the question, he stepped forward and wrapped one arm around each of their necks. Releasing his brothers as fast as he'd clasped them, Dastan offered them a smile. "Someday I might tell you, but it is not my place to say."

"Dastan-"

"It is, however, my burden to bear."

Garsiv made a frustrated noise, stepping forward to grab him - probably to beat him until he spoke - but Dastan stepped back, to the rail by the stairs.

He smirked. "Now if you'll excuse me?"

_"Dastan!"_

Tus' frustration and exasperation followed him where they couldn't as Dastan gripped the railing and, with a barely cursory glance about for a safe path, vaulted over the side and down. Gripping the rail on the landing below for a brief second with his finger tips, he found the wall underneath it and pushed off with his toes, sending him catapulting into space. Tucking into a roll upon landing, he was down to the base of the stairs and out the front door before either of his brothers were half way down.

With a grin and a wave to where his brothers shouted for him to stop, he exited the Palace. Dastan strode out into the courtyard - and detoured immediately. Word was already spreading that the invasion and occupation of Alamut was in error, confusion starting to spread among the troops.

Tus could handle them; Dastan raised his hand to the troops in acknowledgement before taking a running leap at one of the nearby statues, using it to rebound himself to the top of the wall surrounding the Palace. Running lightly around, he skirted to the inside wall, dropping several feet to the lower section before continuing his run.

Tus and Garsiv would corner him eventually to demand specific answers - answers he knew he couldn't give because they weren't his to give. Knowledge of the dagger and the sandglass was jealously protected by Tamina and her fellow guardians and, without her permission, he knew he couldn't speak of it.

Tamina would be in the high temple, and would no doubt be informed shortly that the Dagger had never made it out of the city; he hadn't, after all killed the man he'd found it on. It would depend on the soldier as to if he owned up to the loss or not. Making his way around the private garden, Dastan circled back to enter the Palace from the rear. He passed the secluded partition where the wives of the king would one day eventually be, passed the main floor apartments, ran lightly across the roof of one of the guard towers and finally scaled the higher wall once more.

Not quite sure where he was going, luck was with him as he dropped down from the wall into a smaller garden area that wasn't just deserted, but open to the palace. Striding forward confidently, he headed back inside to search for Tamina.

Before she could many any kind of informed decision, they needed to talk.

* * *

><p>Princess Tamina stared out across Alamut from one of the windows in the high temple, watching as Prince Tus and Prince Garsiv ushered their men out of her city. The Persian army's withdraw hadn't been demanded - yet - but it would have been one of the first concessions she required.<p>

The Persians, for all their barbaric rituals, were known far and wide to be wise in victory and that showed now. Tus, the future King of Persia, was showing remarkable insight in removing his army before she was forced to demand it.

"Princess Tamina!"

Without turning, she held up one hand to the Regent as he entered the Temple, her eyes still scanning the area below. She searched for the figure who'd saved her life and her city - and spoke of things he couldn't possibly have known. Cornered and on the defensive upon the death of Nizam, she'd lashed out as the sovereign of her kingdom - and not taken all of what she'd heard into account.

Prince Dastan, the man who had been instrumental in breeching the walls of her city, had proven to be an unlikely ally during her confrontation with his brother, standing up for what was right in the end.

Having witnessed the conflict, having _heard_ his statements to his Uncle and brothers, a fear had knotted itself in her belly, and she searched now for that very same figure, knowing she must speak with him without his brothers present before high sun. Whatever he had to say would likely influence her opinion of their proposed union.

But Prince Dastan, from what she could see, was not with his brothers or anywhere else among the Persian troops. Turning, she faced the Regent.

"What word of Asoka?"

"He did not pass through any of the city gates, your highness," the man swallowed hard. "His location as of this time is yet unknown. The guard believes he may have fallen in the battle - it will be some time before we can remove the dead from the streets."

Bowing her head, Tamina closed her eyes for a moment, the echoes of this ill-advised invasion already reaching beyond the initial impact. The Dagger was gone, stolen, likely among the Persian troops and the thief as of yet unaware of its significance. She'd failed in her duty as the primary guardian.

Lifting her head, she let none of the desolation and pain she was feeling show on her face. "Send the guard to assist the people, we must find him - dead or alive - and the Dagger."

"But the Persians-"

"Are no longer a threat. With them camped outside our gates, there is no need for more than a minimal watch. Send all available men to help with the search." Sweeping past him, she headed for the stairs. "Let me know the moment either one is found."

"Where are you going, your highness?"

"To prepare; the Persians will return at high sun."

"But they've withdrawn, Princess, surely-"

"They withdraw as a sign of faith," the Regent fell into step behind her as she strode gracefully from the room and started down the stairs. "The attack was urged by the King's brother Nizam, now dead, and Prince Tus has made his apologies."

"Then the matter should be settled."

"They have proposed a marriage alliance."

The Regent was silent, following her as she crossed one landing before continuing to the next. It was long minutes before he spoke again. "An alliance to the Royal house of Persia would be an asset, your highness, but I fear your union would weaken Alamut should you be required to leave with the crowned Prince-"

"The alliance would not be through Prince Tus," Tamina informed him. "Prince Dastan has offered himself as the sacrificial lamb."

"The invader!"

"And the savior." Why was she defending him? Hadn't she the same reaction as the Regent? "There is more happening here than any of us are aware. Gather the council, present the matter - I must prepare."

The Regent bowed as they reached the hallway that led to her rooms. "Yes, Princess."

On her own, Tamina headed for her chambers. She turned the corner, the doors ahead, when a voice from the side stopped her cold.

"Do you always accept their council, Princess?"

Stiffening, she turned towards the shadowed alcove, the voice already familiar despite having only heard it for the first time barely an hour ago. "Prince Dastan; I asked you to leave."

"And so I did," he returned, continuing to lean casually against one of the pillar's, his face obscured by darkness, his arms crossed over his chest. "My return was planned - I suspect you have questions you wish to ask me before you can properly barter with my brother."

"Barter!" Outrage surged through her. "Lives are not currency."

"Only mine, it would seem." Stepping out of the shadows, Dastan allowed her to see his face. "You've questions for me, Princess. I can see them in your eyes."

"And I see shadows in yours, Prince; you musn't look at me thus."

"Like what?"

Considering the question was more of an accusatory observation, Tamina stared at him for a long moment before answering. His expression remained the same, but his eyes... his eyes had softened, looking almost... grateful? Relieved? Elated? Searching his gaze, she realized what she was seeing - and couldn't account for it. He didn't know her, how was that expression even possible - unless her fears were true.

"Like what, Princess?"

"As if I am something precious. Something you'd lost and never expected to see again."

"I... I don't..." Dastan's lips curved into the barest of self-depreciating smiles as his brain caught up with his tongue. "You're seeing things."

"Am I?" She skewered him with a haughty expression, expecting him to recoil and bristled when he only seemed amused. "You're not so good at guarding your thoughts as you think, Prince."

"Ask your questions, Princess, and then tell me if you can answer that without my help."

"What do you know?"

"About what?" Dastan arched his eyebrows. "Alamut? My brothers? My Uncle? The answer to that question could take a lifetime."

"How do you know we are innocent; that we have no forges and sell no weapons?"

""That isn't the question you wish to ask and we both know it." Staring at him, she knew he was right, but asking about the Dagger - if he _didn't_ know about it - was a risk she wasn't willing to take. Dastan seemed to know it, but would give no quarter, taking a step towards her. "Ask me."

Tamina held her ground, tilting her head up to maintain eye contact. "I have."

"Then perhaps you should only be granted a single question, Tamina."

"_Princess_ Tamina, Prince," she snapped, irked by his informal use of her name and the way he'd turned it into a caress. "You'll answer as many questions as needed until I am satisfied."

"Satisfied in what way - your curiosity? Impatience? No, Princess, I don't think I will. Not unless you're going to ask the _right_ questions."

"And what is the right question - how did you know what your father had said to your brother in closed session?"

"One of them," Dastan replied softly. "And I know because Tus told me."

"You lie - his response clearly indicates he did not!"

"Not that he remembers."

Tamina's eyes widened almost imperceptibly in alarm, the fear in her gut coiling into a hard knot of dread. "How did you know about your Uncle's aspirations when your brothers did not?"

"Tsk tsk, Princess. Try again."

"Answer me!"

"I followed the clues."

"That's no answer."

"It is the one I choose to give."

"You're insufferable."

"So you've implied. Have you nothing more to ask me?"

"Just one."

"One?" Dastan couldn't keep the amusement from his voice and Tamina had the distinct impression he was enjoying himself at her expense.

"Do not mock me, Prince."

"I don't think we yet know each other well enough for that Princess-"

"We do not," she agreed sharply, cutting him off. "If not weapons, what was your Uncle searching for in Alamut?"

Dastan's mirth faded away completely and he inclined his head. "The right question at last."

"If my company is as vexing to you as yours is to me, I'm surprised you could stand to wait."

"I find your company engaging, Princess; never doubt it," he turned, heading for the alcove. "But I'm afraid I'll be late to the council if I tarry any longer."

"You've not answered my question."

"I've one for you first," he turned, starling her, and they found themselves but inches apart as she'd been scrambling to catch him. Dastan's eyes dropped to her lips, and her whole body felt that look as if it were a physical thing. She saw him swallow hard, his voice slightly hoarse as his gaze returned to hers, darker than before. "What is time but shifting grains of sand?"

This time her eyes widened fully, almost rounding with her shock. Searching his gaze, his expression, she looked for some hint he wasn't saying what she believed him to be saying - and found none. "It's not possible."

"I believed my Uncle to be a good man, Princess - what else would convince me otherwise?"

"I don't believe it." Tamina's hands closed over his forearm as he made to leave again. "Speak plainly; what do you know about the sand?"

Dastan's gaze dropped to where she gripped him, lingering on the way her fingers curled around his flesh before lifting back to hers. "Only what you once told me in confidence, in a time that will no longer be."

Shock allowed him to pry his arm from her fingers and Dastan was gone in the moments before she recovered enough to speak. Numb, Princess Tamina proceeded to her chambers and sank down into the pillows near the hearth. With an abrupt dismissal of the handmaidens waiting to tend her, she was left to her own devices.

Dastan knew about the Dagger and the sandglass. He knew what it could do - had, in fact, _used_ the dagger in conjunction with the sandglass to do the forbidden; to turn back time; to rewrite history.

And the world had not ended.

As the primary Guardian of the Dagger, everything within her rebelled, the doctrin instilled in her from birth crying out for his death - only the fact that he'd _saved _her city with the knowledge he'd gained gave her pause. Nizam had wished to be King - surely eliminating his nephews and brother would have made him King - but she recalled how old Nizam was and no man wanted to be king for just a few years. If he'd eliminated his brother before Sharaman took the crown however... It was chilling to think how different life would have been had Nizam succeeded; he would likely have come for the Dagger and sandglass immediately, securing it so no other could do as he'd done.

It would have meant her own death - or she may never have been born.

Time passed as she stared into nothingness, Dastan's voice and expressions as he'd spoken coming back to her. He knew things about her he couldn't otherwise have known; acted protective - _knowing_. And, if what he said was true, she'd been the one to reveal Alamut's secrets to him. Having sworn never to do so, her whole life focused on the protection of the dagger and its sacred covenant between man and the Gods, she couldn't imagine what circumstances would have led her to do such a thing.

_What was he to me - and me to him? _

That thought careened around and around in her mind as the hour grew later and high sun approached. Had whatever occurred influenced his decision to present himself as a would-be husband? Was he driven by greed or was it that unidentifiable emotion in his eyes whenever he looked at her?

Regardless, the haunted sadness behind his look of pure relief whenever his eyes softened on her was what held sway in her mind. It was a look she couldn't fully understand; the look of a man who'd lost everything and been given a second chance - but there was more too. There was a peace within him despite the outward unease, a sense of rightness she couldn't explain. A sense that he knew who and what he was; as if his journey with the dagger had forced him to accept some hard truths.

She knew of the powers of the dagger, knew of its capabilities. But just what had happened to cause him to regard her as he did now - and did she really want to know? Did she-

A knock on her door startled her from her thoughts.

"Your highness?"

"I asked to be left in peace."

"My apologies, Princess," the handmaiden replied respectfully. "But the Persians await you in the throne room - it is high sun."

Her eyes darted to the window, dismayed to realize so much time had passed - and she'd spared barely a thought to the concession Persia would need to give to make amends. Rising to her feet, she squared her shoulders and donned the cool mask of state she always used for such functions.

"So it is."

The handmaiden stepped into the room without asking for permission, brushing down Tamina's robe and arranging her hood to hide her features. The efficient and practiced movements of the handmaiden quickly eliminated the larger wrinkles and set her clothing to rights. A small touch up of kohl to her eyes and she was headed for the throne room... and the meeting that would shape the future of her kingdom.

* * *

><p>"Nervous, little brother?"<p>

Dastan shifted, adjusting the cuff of one sleeve. "Unlike you and Garsiv, I've never done this before."

"A Princess for a first wife," Tus clapped him on the shoulder. "Better that you offered instead of being thrust into it; think she'll say yes?"

"With what I have in mind for a gift, she'll not be able to refuse."

"Only you, Dastan," Garsiv slapped him on the other shoulder, directly over the cut he'd gained in the fight in the High temple and making him wince. "Would come up with something a Princess could not refuse on the day of a siege when you were instrumental in gaining access to her city."

He was saved from saying anything more as the doors opened, drawing everyone's attention, and Princess Tamina entered - alone.

A hush settled over the crowd as many of the gathered bowed to her, her magnificent features shrouded once more in her hood. Ascending to the dais which held her throne, she turned and sat before looking directly at the Princes. Silence reigned for a few long moments before Tus stepped forward.

"Your highness; Persia humbly offers her apologies for the grief it has caused you and your citizens. I was misled to attack your city. Please allow us to make amends as a gesture of friendship and understanding - starting with my pledge that our army will never again enter Alamut on hostile terms and have since withdrawn."

Knowing what she knew, Tamina stared at Tus for a long moment before lifting her hands to remove her hood. The collective gasp - a sound she was used to - as it fell away, faded almost as it was breathed. Staring at Tus, she kept her face impassive but her gaze went to Dastan's, hardening imperceptibly before sliding back to Tus.

"We are the wronged party, Prince Tus," Tamina told him coolly. "Your pretty speeches mean little to the families of those who have lost loved ones by your rash actions."

Tus, ever the diplomat, forged ahead. "A cost that Persia can never repay, Princess. At your request, we have returned to hear your terms of our assistance in helping repair both city and relations between our nations. Support for widows and orphans of war has always been strong within Persia," his gaze slanted towards Dastan as he spoke. "Our father demands it and it will be so with Alamut. It... has been suggested a bond stronger than friendship would be mutually beneficial - in ways none of us can yet anticipate."

Tamina didn't look convinced, but then - sitting on her throne - she didn't look anything but beautifully remote and unattainable.

Tus backed away, going to stand with Dastan and clasping his little brother on the shoulder, urging him forward. Garsiv, on his other side, helped propel Dastan towards the throne and the Princess waiting there. Dastan could see the challenge in her gaze, almost daring him to present a reason she couldn't refuse him and never dreaming he had one.

Except he did.

Tus spoke before Dastan moved forward. "My brother Dastan is both conqueror and savior of your city. A noble man despite his lack of royal blood; a true son to our father and beloved brother to Garsiv and me," Tus gripped his shoulder tightly, Garsiv on his other side doing the same - a show of solidarity by the Princes of Persia. "A _true_ Prince of Persia."

Smiling thankfully at his brothers, Dastan bowed his head to Tamina, inclining his upper body to her as he stopped at the base of the stairs. His gaze found hers, seeing how the challenge hadn't diminished - if anything it had increased. She was mad, he realized; angry to be placed in this position - an anger he only saw because he was familiar with it. Taking a deep breath, he took two steps to be just above eye level with her and opened his mouth.

"Hello Princess." Tamina was silent, watching him, and Dastan knew he'd get no encouragement - he was on his own. Clearing his throat, he forged ahead. "It is customary to accompany a proposal with gifts, but alas, I was unprepared. I had nothing for you. Save..." exhaling, Dastan reached for the dagger, withdrawing it slowly, and in an unthreatening manner.

Several of the guards reached for their weapons, but Dastan ignored them. Keeping his movements fluid, he saw Tamina's whole form stiffen, her gaze dropping incredulously to the dagger and then back to his. Surprise showed on her features and, if he wasn't mistaken, a grudging respect. Bringing the blade to his finger tips, Dastan pointed the tip of the blade away from her and knelt.

"...that which is already yours."

Tamina didn't react initially, her gaze locked on his and Dastan extended the dagger to her, daring her to refuse him at this moment. To refuse him and his gift; to refute the knowledge that simmered between them. She _knew_ he knew of the Dagger's powers; she _knew_ he knew of the Sandglass - and yet here he was, offering her the Dagger... and the wealth of meaning in that gesture wasn't lost on her.

Of all the choices he could have made with regards to the Dagger, returning it to her care instead of keeping it, or presenting it to his father as a gift beyond price - this gesture wasn't just a proposal; it was his way of showing she could trust him.

Her lips twitched and Dastan's echoed her amusement, the grudging respect in her eyes warming him through. He'd out manoeuvred her and she knew it. Capitulating gracefully, she plucked the dagger from his finger tips and inclined her head. "I accept, _Prince_ Dastan."

Dastan's smile was heart-meltingly boyish as he offered his hand - which she accepted by sliding her fingers into his. Their gazes locked, Dastan lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a heart-felt, lingering kiss to the backs of her fingers - and a familiar surge of awareness arced between them as his lips brushed her skin.

An unexpected cheer went up, drawing them back to the present, and Dastan didn't relinquish her fingers as he rose to his feet. Using them as leverage, he also pulled Tamina to his feet. "May I present the Princess Tamina of Alamut," he declared, lifting their joined hands with a smile. "My future wife."

They stood where they were for a few moments before the cheering started to subside and Dastan reluctantly let her go. As Tamina retook her seat, she placed the Dagger in her lap, one hand resting protectively over the blade. She turned her gaze from Dastan to Tus with difficulty, his gesture having surprised her beyond measure. "Alamut and Persia will be allies, Prince Tus; your men may re-enter the city to assist with the repairs."

"Might I suggest, Princess, that we guard your walls as well?" Dastan's suggestion drew his brother's gaze and he shrugged. "We have the men to spare and they are better equipped for guard duty."

"A surprisingly wise suggestion, brother." Dastan shrugged uncomfortably, well aware he'd gained that wisdom in the most painful manner possible. Tus inclined his head to the Princess. "We offer our aid in any capacity you require Princess; the Persian army is yours to command."

_fin_


End file.
